You’re exhausted. You can feel the sweat pouring off your body, soaking your practice uniform. After your audition a month earlier, today is the day you’ve been waiting for – your chance to finally make the team. To join the Wonderbolts. It’s what you’ve always wanted, what you’ve spent every day dreaming of since you were little. No matter how much you prepared yourself for the chance, walking out in your change of clothes and coming face to face with your idols was enough to make your stomach do flips. Eventually it was simply catching up with your routine, but your were still shaking a little as you touched down next to the famous Soarin’ and Spitfire after giving them a show of your best stunts. It wasn’t your first time meeting them, but that didn’t subtract from the volume of butterflies in your stomach.
“Not bad at all, chief. Looks like you’re our front-runner for try-outs so far… you sure you can fly like that all the time?” Spitfire asks, cocking her eyebrows with a grin. Your brain momentarily forgets how to form a sentence, though you doubt you’d be able to muster one past your breathlessness anyway. You nod your head, panting and trying not to collapse in a combination of fan-awe and tiredness. Spitfire ribbing you is a good sign, but you’re not sure if she’s being sincere.
Soarin’ seems to notice your struggle to stay upright. “Hey, you did good up there. Don’t worry about the results – from what I’ve seen, you’re at the front of the pack. Why don’t you cool off in the showers?” Soarin’ gestures with a hoof toward the locker room. The locker room of the Wonderbolts. “Sure,” you say, swallowing with a dry throat. You make your away across the landing cloud, followed by Soarin’ and Spitfire close behind. You can sense them whispering to each other behind you – discussing your prospects for the team. Just the thought sends a jolt of anticipation up your spine. Before you can open the door, Soarin’ edges in front of you, pushing it open with one of his muscular shoulders. “Let me get that,” he says.
You nod your thanks and make your way inside, the scent of locker-room musk and steam soaked walls immediately hitting your nostrils. The room is silent, but for your own hoofsteps, and Spitfire and Soarin’ behind you. Sharing a locker-room with the Wonderbolts – the thought keeps your heart beating fast in your chest, refusing to calm down from your vigorous flight routine.
“Come on, I know I can’t wait to get out of that awful uniform after a performance. Meet us in the showers when you’re ready,” Spitfire says, already removing her jumpsuit. As her orange coat comes into full view, you feel yourself twitch slightly. You hope that neither of the pair notices. Ponies go without clothes most of the time – but for some reason the sight of Spitfire’s lithe and toned body snaking out of her skintight outfit sends a very noticeable jolt of energy to your loins. You shake your head, trying to clear the thought as you unzip your own outfit. The sight of Spitfire’s bright orange tail waggling towards the sound of water spraying against the floor catches your attention with your zipper half down, and you let your eyes linger for a minute. Your reverie breaks when you feel a nudge into your side, and turn your head to see Soarin’ grinning at you.
“Definitely one of the perks of the job,” he says, smirking. His outfit is off too, and you find yourself surprised when your eyes move of their own accord up and down the entirety of his muscled frame. You feel a twitch again. If Soarin’ notices, he doesn’t say anything, simply gesturing with a tilt of his head towards the shower. He treats you to another free show, and you swear you notice an extra shake of his tail as his well-toned posterior trots down across the room. You squeeze your hind legs together ever so slightly, savouring the sensation of fleeting pressure on your rapidly growing member, hoping the sensation of cleansing water will help you clear you mind. The last thing you need is to ruin your chance with the Wonderbolts over a stiffy in the communal shower.
The hot steam hits your body from several feet away, and you try your hardest to keep your eyes to yourself as you step into the oncoming spray of hot water. You immediately feel the sweat washing from your coat, and a small sigh escapes your lips as the heat washes over your body. Thoughts are spiralling through your mind, the foremost being the staunchest attempt to distract yourself from the fact that right this moment, you’re showering with the most prestigious and talented fliers in all of Equestria – as well as apparently the most attractive. Another nudge pulls you back to reality, and you turn ahead again, this time met with Spitfire’s bright orange mane and coy smile. When she speaks, her voice is like sultry honey, sensuous and textured in all the right places. Part of you wants to say that she’s putting in a little effort just for you, but the truth is her voice has haunted your dreams for years – every TV interview giving you a little more to dwell on when you find yourself restless and yearning at night.
“So what do you think, champ? Can you see yourself becoming one of the Wonderbolts?”
Again, you can only manage a nod. Spitfire waits for the words that don’t manage to squeak out of your nervous mouth, and laughs after a moment.
“You really are star-struck, huh? You gotta get over it, bud. We’re normal ponies just like you… just amazingly talented ponies.” She pauses, then grins wider, giving a glance to Soarin’. “Not to mention sexy as hell.”
You cough loudly into the hot steam of the shower. Did she just say that? Maybe your earlier glances were a little too obvious…
Soarin’s pats a hoof on your back, pounding it lightly once or twice to clear the coughing fit you managed to avoid on your own anyway.
“Hey, Spitfire’s just saying what we’re all thinking – or rather, what you were thinking a little earlier.”
Even in the heat of the shower you can feel yourself blushing. You’re not sure if the two are just giving you a hard time because you’re still a hopeful nobody, or if they’re always this crass and joking with one another – either would be fine by you, as long as they’re not laughing you right out of the locker room.
You don’t have much time to think on the matter. A warm pressure on the side of your body is enough to draw your attention, and the resulting sight as you turn your head freezes your body stiff, as well as something else entirely. Spitfire is pressing herself up against you, her wings languishing damply on yours, followed by her flank grinding against your cutie mark. You notice now she’s had her trademark flight goggles on for the duration of the shower. The sight sends an extra jolt downward. No fighting it now – anyone paying attention would notice you doing the same, standing at full attention. Spitfire grins wide again.
“One of the most important things about being a Wonderbolt is knowing how to have a little fun, if y’know what I mean. Of course, being a rookie means you’ve gotta know your place-“ Spitfire emphasizes the thought with an extra hard shove of her backside into yours, and you feel your legs shake a little bit, threatening to give out despite the fact that Spitfire’s frame is much smaller and less weighty than your own. Her front side joins her rear pressed against your body, and you can feel your heart go from two hundred beats per minute to completely stopped as her half-open eyes meet your own.
“What’ya say, bud? You think you’ve got what it takes to become a member?”
Words. You can’t remember any of them. Your screaming brain forces your head to respond, bobbing up and down. Yes. You think that means yes.
“Well, let’s see how well you take direction then.”
Spitfire turns faster than you can react, and you feel both her hooves on your chest as she shoves you backwards. Your hooves slip a little on the dampness of the locker room floor, and you think for a minute that you might tumble to an impromptu crash landing on the shower tile – but something besides a wall stops you. Another warmth, much larger and firmer than Spitfire’s body pressed against you just a moment ago. Soarin’s forelegs wrap around you as you fall into his muscular frame. You tilt your head back towards him, and he smiles before shifting his grip to the sides of your face. Without warning, you feel his lips on yours. You twitch again.
His mouth is warmer than the water pouring over your body, and much softer besides. You inhale sharply as his tongue nudges your own, dancing about inside your mouth for several seconds before your natural reaction can give response, tracing your tongue over his. The sensation is electric, and you feel your body responding in the most obvious way, your member pointing straight out, harder than you can ever remember being. The combination of the steamy shower spray and the all encompassing pleasure of Soarin’s expert kiss prompts another involuntary reaction, and you moan deeply, the sound muffled by Soarin’s delicious lips still pressed against your own. The kiss continues for what feels like an eternity, seconds melting away in the steam of the shower before it finally ends. Soarin’ pulls back and your lips separate with an audible pop. You stretch your tongue, trying to touch his as long as possible before the kiss breaks. A single strand of saliva joins your mouths for a moment as he pulls away, before being washed away in the constant torrent of water.
Spitfire is still there, grinning broadly as you blink, half-way between confusion and all-consuming arousal. The shower is a blanket of warmth, speeding the blood flowing through your entire body, as well as in one very particular place. You can’t ever remember being this hard. So hard it almost hurts. Every time you blink, the kiss replays itself in your mind, and you feel your lips moving subconsciously at the same time. Your cock twitches in harmony.
“New recruits need to know their place, and for noobies that means at the bottom of the pyramid,” Spitfire instructs. Again, you feel hooves on your chest, pushing you forward, but this time much stronger. A shove from Soarin’ knocks you off balance, and you tumble to the floor, letting out a small ‘oof’ as you land. Before you can move, Soarin’ steps forward, standing above you, the water running off his muscular blue body in rivulets.
“Don’t move a muscle without permission. Understood?” Spitfire’s tone has shifted from sultry and playful to commanding. Before your brain can process the instruction, you nod your head, and Spitfire smiles at the speed of your response. “Good,” she says before stepping forward next to Soarin’. The feeling of such a large, toned body overtop your own sends shivers up your spine. Don’t move a muscle, she said. One muscle is eager to disregard the command, but you assume involuntary reactions don’t apply. The bite in her voice made you ache even more for a moment, and the warm spray of shower water cascading onto your head is almost torturous. If it weren’t washed away immediately, you’re certain the tip of your cock would be covered in precum.
Spitfire’s attention is elsewhere for a moment. You can feel your eyes widen as she takes Soarin’s face in her hooves, the same way he took yours, and then kisses him passionately. Even from observation you can tell this kiss is different – where Soarin’s mouth had been firm and insistent, Spitfire’s kiss was alluring, feminine, and downright pornographic. Her mouth was so wide that despite Soarin’s eager response, her furious mouth movements almost stumbled the pegasus. Her tongue moves wildly inside his mouth, practically slobbering with eagerness as she presses her mouth on his. This is enough to get an audible groan from Soarin’, and for the first time you notice his hardness, standing out very noticeably only a foot away from your body. His member is impressive, larger than your own, and you feel your cock give another involuntary twitch as his does the same, spurred into activity by Spitfire’s assault on his mouth.
Without missing a beat, Spitfire slides one of her hooves along Soarin’s back, giving a languid stroke to his tail before slipping under his body. His hips move very noticeably as Spitfire’s touch meets his enormous cock, and he groans again, shifting his weight slightly forward in response to the sensation.
Don’t move a muscle, she said. Your body disagrees with the direction. Your hips have never wanted to move so badly. You can feel yourself straining against your body’s impulses, fighting the urge to grind your hindquarters upward. Even without someone to meet your thrusts, the thought of the motion is enough to prompt a groan of your own. Still pressing her tongue rapidly into Soarin’s mouth, you see Spitfire grin ever so slightly. Her hoof is moving up and down the length of Soarin’s sizable cock, and his hips continue to thrust ever so slightly forward as her strokes hit the base of his shaft. After another minute of the arduous display, the bright orange mare finally breaks the kiss, though she continues her attention to Soarin’s cock as she turns her head toward you.
“I can tell you like Soarin’. You like looking at him, right? At his big, buff body? At his gigantic cock?” Spitfire strokes harder with her last sentence, drawing another groan from Soarin’ alongside your own nodding. “If you wanna earn your place in the Wonderbolts, it’s very important you respect your superiors. In a normal job, that might mean something like fetching coffee, doing paperwork… here, we do things a little differently.”
Without warning, Spitfire shoves Soarin’ aside and drops herself onto you, pushing the air out of your chest with the force of her landing. Without hesitation, she plants her mouth firmly on your neck, sinking her teeth into your coat. The shock of your breath escaping alongside her sudden assault makes stars flash in front of your eyes, as well as causing your hips to finally obey their natural inclination and thrust upwards, longing for some kind of contact on your aching hardness. You barely manage a gasp as you feel something there to meet your thrust, a wetness even damper than the water still plummeting down from the shower head. You don’t feel yourself go inside, but as you continue arching your hindquarters up every other second, Spitfire slides her flank back ever so slightly before pressing her slit onto your shaft. The slickness of her evident excitement grinding against your cock makes your eyes roll back into your head, and you begin to dip lower before each thrust, praying to Celestia in the back of your mind that the mare on top of you might pause and let your trajectory align enough to slip inside her.
Spitfire continues sliding her cunt along your painfully hard erection, taking pause from the bites on your neck and shoulder to nibble at your earlobe. Above the sound of your own heavy breathing, you can hear her whispering into your ear.
“I bet you’d love to fuck me, wouldn’t you?”
Given the importance of the situation, your brain manages to recollect the simplest part of your mental dictionary.
“Yes, please…”
Spitfire continues, pressing herself into you so hard you think you might break. Please, in…
“I bet you’d love for me to stop just grinding and lower myself onto your dick and then ride you like a cowpony at the rodeo, wouldn’t you?”
“Yesss…” you hiss through clenched teeth. So close, you can feel her lips just touching the tip-
Without warning, your breath leaves again. Spitfire leans fully forward, pressing one of her forelegs into your throat. You can feel your head spinning with the sudden loss of oxygen, and you wheeze as the pressure squeezes the last remnants of air from your body. Still, you find yourself thrusting upward, despite no feedback from Spitfire. Maybe even slightly more eagerly now.
“Well too fucking bad.” Spitfire’s voice whispers into your ear. You kick your limbs out at the side of your body. You can feel your consciousness slipping away as your brain screams at you for air, and still your hips keep moving…
“Rookies start at the bottom. That means you get to be Soarin’s personal fuck toy before you get the good stuff. Before you get to fool around with the pros, you have to learn how to be a proper slut, for us to fuck whenever or wherever we want. Do you understand?”
Stars. Black. With the last spark of your awareness, you manage to squeak out a single syllable through Spitfire’s rock hard press on your windpipe.
“Yes…”
The world comes flooding back with a rush as Spitfire releases her foreleg. The roar of the shower accompanies the blood flowing back to your head as you gasp for air, hips finally falling still as you struggle to take back air as fast as your lungs will allow it. Spitfire plants her ass on your chest, grinning evily.
“Good,” she says before standing up. Immediately you feel the presence on your chest replaced with a lingering figure overtop your body. Soarin’ smiles down at you before walking forward. You blink your eyes several times, trying to recollect your vision through the blurry haze caused by your loss of breath, only to find yourself face to face with Soarin’s impressive member, dangling down at you only inches away from your face.
“Suck,” is the only direction, drifting down from overhead in Spitfire’s insistent tone. Head still spinning, you managed to collect your senses enough to raise yourself off the ground ever so slightly. It takes only the tiniest elevation of your chest before your head is level with the tip of the giant cock waiting for you. The proximity sends an electric tingle up your body, even only in anticipation. Nervously, you open your mouth and lean forward slightly, pressing your lips to Soarin’s head. It’s warm, and huge, almost as big as your whole mouth. You can feel your hips start to move again as you lather the tip of Soarin’s cock with your tongue, lapping at it with your tongue. The taste is just a little salty, though as you continue you notice the flavour increasing, accompanied by the damp sensation of precum rapidly making its way onto your tongue.
“More,” Spitfire directs. Body still arching involuntarily, you comply, sliding your mouth forward. Even just the first inch is a struggle, but you persist, taking as much as you can before sliding back, coating half of Soarin’s shaft in your saliva. Your body tingles as you shut your eyes for a moment, then continue you attempt to take the whole of the massive length. You choke a little as your mouth stretches to capacity, Soarin’s girth stretching you as you bob your head on three quarters of his shaft. After several false starts, you manage to find a rhythm, adding some movement from your tongue as you nearly choke yourself with each mouthful. After a minute, you hear a grunt of approval from Soarin’, coupled with the movement of his body, thrusting to meet your mouth as you slurp at the length of his cock repeatedly. Amidst the stallion’s moans, you hear a small ‘hmph’ of approval from Spitfire. “Good job,” she says. Your mouth is too full to respond.
You continue the blowjob for several minutes. The hardest part is keeping your hooves off your own cock which is aching for attention. You know it would be so easy just to reach down and fondle your throbbing erection, but somehow you sense that if Spitfire wanted you to do so, she would give implicit direction. Instead, you focus your efforts on pleasuring Soarin’ as much as you can. Despite your inexperience, your manage to elicit a continuous chorus of groans as you bottom out to the best of your abilities, Soarin’s engorged head meeting the back of your mouth with every thrust. You try to let as much saliva out as you can, coating the entirety of his cock in a slippery mess of moisture. In addition to making the process easier, it also gets an extra ‘hmm’ from Spitfire, still watching overhead.
Mid-stroke without warning, Soarin’ presses himself forward forcefully. You try to bring your head back instinctively, not wanting to choke on the giant piece of meat making its way towards your throat, but you find your motion halted but a firmness behind you – Spitfire pressing her hooves into the back of your head. Without anywhere to go, Soarin’s cock buries itself in your throat, and you cough and sputter for several seconds, gagging on the giant head before it finally withdraws. Your eyes tear up as you cough again, trying to recollect yourself from the sudden assault on your gag reflex.
“Very good,” says Spitfire, her voice drifting to your ear from close by as she presses her mouth against your ear. “Not many can take all of Soarin’s length, even with a little help.” You fail to respond, still coughing. Spitfire gives you a moment before grabbing your body with her forelegs, dragging you back onto your feet. You can feel your knees wobble as you stand up, shaking your head in an attempt to clear it.
Spitfire doesn’t give you a second to collect yourself before she snakes her lithe frame underneath you, taking the head of your cock into her mouth without warning. You groan loudly as she engulfs your entire length effortlessly, humming in pleasure as she does so. After one or two swallows, she withdraws her mouth with a pop, and then stands up beside you.
“Wonderful job, slut. You’re well on your way to becoming a full-fledged Wonderbolt,” Spitfire says, giving you an out of place pat on the back as she speaks. “That is what you want, isn’t it? To be a member of the most amazing team of athletes in all of Equestria?”
Your brain feels as though it’s been rung through the washer, but you manage to collect another response. “Yes,” is the only thing you can muster.
“Which means you’re more than happy to be the best slut the Wonderbolts have ever seen, right?”
“Yes.” The word leaves your mouth before you can think.
“And that means you can’t wait to bend over for Soarin’s cock to plow you like the good little slut you are, right?”
“Mnnh…” Spitfire’s description makes your hips jolt forward, robbing your mouth of its sentence composition momentarily.
“I’m sorry, slut, I didn’t understand. Was that a ‘Yes, I want Soarin’s giant dick inside me so he can fill me with a load of his cum’?”
“Yes, yes…”
“Say it then.”
“Yes, I…”
“And say it to me, properly, unless you want a more talented slut to take your place on the team.”
You shut your eyes. A lifetime of adoration and preparation flashes across your mind. Even before the suggestion that you might be replaced by a more eager recruit, the answer was forming on your lips. Now, there was no question.
“Yes, Spitfire, I… I want Soarin’s… giant dick inside me, so he can fill me with a load of his cum.”
Your cock twitches as you utter the last word, flinging a drop of precum up against your stomach.
Spitfire beams.
“Very good. Bend over, and assume the position like a good slut then. Keep up this behaviour and you’ll be a full-fledged team member in no time.”
A girlish moan escapes your mouth as you arch your back, planting your head on the warm tile of the shower floor. The water pouring down onto your body is still hot, though now it feels practically cool against the heat of your body, not to mention the aching temperature of your cock, now practically screaming to be touched, to be given release. Spitfire’s mouth a moment ago was like a warm, wet paradise wrapped around your shaft, and you know that if she’d just touch you again, just for a minute…
The thought of your own pleasure leaves your head as you feel Soarin’s manly hooves on your back, followed by his body pressed into your flank. You can sense the size of his cock next to your entrance even before it touches you. Your own cock jumps in response as you feel the head pressed against your asshole. Soarin’ pauses for a moment, apparently giving you a moment to prepare yourself, before pushing himself slowly forward. The tip of his giant girth presses into you, the water from the shower providing ample lubrication. You grit your teeth and try to relax your muscles as Soarin’ rocks his hips forward and back, pressing no more than the first inch inside you each time. After several thrusts, you can feel your body moving back to meet him, each entry drawing another submissive moan into the roar of the shower spray. After several more thrusts, Soarin’ pauses, the head of his cock planted firmly in your ass. You open your eyes, having locked them shut tight up till now, wanting to keep out as many senses as possible. A bright orange grin meets you as your eyes open, followed by forelegs lifting the front of your body to a more upright posture.
Spitfire locks her mouth onto yours, and in the same moment Soarin’ slams himself forward, burying himself to the hilt inside your ass. You cum instantly, spraying an enormous load of semen all over your own stomach, the shower tile below, and even far forward enough to land on Spitfire’s bright orange coat. You scream into her mouth as the world-shattering feeling of complete fullness overtakes you. Her tongue dances in your mouth as your moan continues, cock twitching with the end of your orgasm as Soarin’ pulls back, and then pushes forward again, thrusting into you with the whole of his length. The initial pain of the penetration was buried in the throes of your orgasm, and though you feel stretched beyond your limit, Spitfire’s mouth serves as a sufficient distraction. After a minute of pounding, you feel a numbness mingling with the still pleasurable sensation of Soarin’s cock inside you, and you begin to moan again, still muffled by Spitfire’s mouth pressed against your own. Despite coating the floor in your cum, your own penis is still rock hard, twitching up and down against your belly as you grind your hips back against Soarin’s thrusts.
You can hear him grunting in your ear as each movement grows progressively harder. Spitfire hears it too, and she pulls herself away from your mouth, leaving with a single fierce bite on your lower lip, enough to draw blood. She places her mouth to your other ear as Soarin’ continues to bury his enormous length inside you, his body slamming into your ass as the hilt of his cock bottoms with every movement.
“Sounds like Soarin’s about to cum… and you do remember saying you wanted his load inside you, don’t you?”
“Y-ye-yes-“ your answer is broken as Soarin’s pounding continues, shaking your body each time his cock head hits deep inside you.
“What do you say, Soarin’? Ready to fill our wonderful new slut up with a gallon of your cum?”
“Mnh… rather do it… on his face…” Soarin’ grunted, not taking a pause from his relentless pounding.
“You heard the man, slut. Whenever you’re ready, Soarin’.”
Several more thrusts and Soarin’s voice emerged through the strain of his restraint. “Ready… gonna – cum – “
You feel the familiar shove of Soarin’s masculine hooves, this time on your back as he throws you forward, the enormous length of his cock slipping out of your tender ass as you fall forward. Your legs give out instantly, the last of your energy long gone. You were holding yourself up through sheer will until now, and any invitation to collapse was welcome. You do manage, however, to turn your body around on the shower floor, facing towards Soarin’s massive cock as it twitches in front of your face.
His grunting makes way for a single muffled groan as his cock twitches before spewing a hot stream of white fluid onto your face. You shut your eyes as the torrent of sticky goo lands on your skin, coating your eyes, nose, and cheeks, as well as several errant strands crisscrossing on your forehead and chin. Without thinking about it, you open your mouth, and take the last several spurts of jizz on your waiting tongue. After several seconds pass with no further streams, you swallow the sizable load before collapsing onto the floor into a small puddle of water and your own cum from earlier.
Every muscle in your body aches, not least of all your aching hole from Soarin’s relentless pounding. The sticky strands of semen coating your face encourage you to keep your eyes shut. Even the hard floor of the shower room feels welcoming, though you can’t help but notice the hardness of your still persistent erection pressing into the remnants of your orgasm. You sigh loudly, drained, and completely exhausted. The warmth of the still cascading shower spray begins to wash the sizable load from your face, and you lay there for several seconds before the clop of hooves against the floor ushers Spitfire’s movement to your side.
“Wonderful job, slut,” she says. Her voice is cheerful and spunky, just the way you heard her speak when you first entered the locker room, though her words fit the tone of her earlier speech. “Keep up the great work and you’ll become a wonderful addition to the Wonderbolts.” She leans in close to your ear, giving it a nip with her teeth. “Now, clean yourself up like a good slut, and meet us outside when you’re done. We’ll give you a lift home if you need it.”
And with that, the pair exit, leaving their new cum-covered slut on the floor of the shower room.
‘The newest addition to the Wonderbolts,’ you think to yourself. So far, it’s even better than you imagined.
